


Maybe Just Fate

by ColdwaughterWoes (TrickyMxtape)



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Body Dysmorphic Disorder, M/M, References to Depression, Soulmate AU, season 1 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-03-29 12:45:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19020199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrickyMxtape/pseuds/ColdwaughterWoes
Summary: Ted and his wife had argued for weeks over a name. Well, arguing was a strong word for what it had been, but after spending a substantial amount of each evening dedicated to constantly flipping through baby name books, each responding with a counter for an idea, it was starting to feel like a battle.All those discussions were over now though. Who were they to fight with destiny, holding this tiny baby with “Quentin Coldwater?” scrawled across his forearm.Well, maybe they weren’t entirely over... there was still a conversation about middle names to be had.- Soulmates AU where the first words your soulmate will say are in black on your dominant arm from birth, and turn into a rainbow when they are spoken





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to the people who saw my post and said they would read it if it was a fic https://coldwaughterwoes.tumblr.com/post/185196438470

Ted and his wife had argued for weeks over a name. Well, arguing was a strong word for what it had been, but after spending a substantial amount of each evening dedicated to constantly flipping through baby name books, each responding with a counter for an idea, it was starting to feel like a battle.

 

 

> “ _Trevor?”_
> 
> “ _No, I knew a Trevor in high school, he was an asshole.”_
> 
>  
> 
> “ _What about Zander?_
> 
> “ _We both hate my uncle Zander and you know he will think we named him after the guy.”_
> 
>  
> 
> “ _Ashwin?”_
> 
> “ _Ashwin Coldwater? Really?”_
> 
>  

All those discussions were over now though. Who were they to fight with destiny, holding this tiny baby with “Quentin Coldwater?” scrawled across his forearm.

 

Well, maybe they weren’t entirely over... there was still a conversation about middle names to be had.

 

* * *

 

 

Quentin Coldwater found himself on edge in classrooms, doctors waiting rooms, just about anywhere he might be greeted with a hesitant call of his name, waiting for the flash of colour to change his name to a rainbow on his flesh.

 

As he grew, Quentin learned that soulmates weren’t necessarily something everyone had, something everyone was ready for at the time they found them, or something you’d have forever. Love and relationships, happiness or so he’s thought could be destroyed by the entire concept. When things got especially bad Quentin started to dread meeting his soulmate. He knew that a perfect match wouldn’t necessarily make him feel better about his life. And what if, when these waves of hopelessness crash down upon him he drives that person away. It’s not that quentin thought he was unlovable, just that love means different things to different people... and when the voices telling him how utterly useless the world and his continued existence is get too overwhelming, would love be enough to keep him alive?

 

Some parents wept upon finding their child had no words at all. It became common to teach that while not everyone found their soulmate, that didn’t mean they were unable to be loved. For a while Quentin had thought the soulmate thing might be like imprinting in the Twilight series. Not the creepy ageing weird until you could romance the person for real thing just... someone you’d be there for, who would be there for you in what ways you needed. He thought if anything he might end up with a soul _mentor_ or even a soul _therapist_ because he clearly needed the help. This train of thought could be blamed on his very best friend though. Julia had a vampire phase she took very seriously and he was so thankful to have her as a friend he had read every book, held her hand through the movies, dragged her away from a weird mom who tried to snatch the last Team Jacob shirt from her grip at a particularly rowdy convention.

 

 

 

> “Seriously Jules. I don’t know why you even want it. We both know you think Bella should have been dating Alice anyway”
> 
>  
> 
> “Yeah but I had _plans_ for that shirt.” She mumbled as they wandered from the table. He knew better than to ask questions. Sometimes her “plans” involved dressing him in things he would usually be awkward about in public but it would make her so happy that he wouldn’t really care.

 

He knew Julia wasn’t his soulmate – her first words to him had been “Fuck those guys” after finding him being teased. He had just gaped at her. She _swore_ and he was in awe. He was an easily impressed child, convinced she was a wild goddess. He still thought she was a bit of a goddess. Not being soulmates didn’t mean that you couldn’t be in love and he loved her dearly.

 

They grew together, feeding each others love of fantasy. Julia knew him better than any other human being. When things first started getting bad inside Quentin’s head, Julia was the person he’d turned to, counting on her to help him fight off his own thoughts the same way she’d taken on bullies with him when they were small. She didn’t always know what to say or do, but in times when her attempting to talk him up just seemed to make him feel worse, Julia would take his hand and lead him to lay under the table with her. Looking up at the map of Fillory they had drawn together, she would read to him, stroking his hair to comfort him in any way she knew how.

 

* * *

 

Stumbling through the bushes, Quentin found himself at an expanse of grass leading towards a large building. A languid form stretched before him, reading his name from a card.

 

“Quentin Coldwater?” The dark-haired man said his name and Quentin’s mouth went dry, feeling his gaze rake over him.

 

“Uh huh?” He nodded at the man before him, overcome with confusion and also a bit awestruck by the beauty of the man before him.

 

“I’m Eliot. You’re late. Follow me.”

 

He stumbled behind Eliot, asking questions as they popped into his head, but only half listening to the responses being given. Discovering he was suddenly at a university in up-state New York, about to take an entrance exam and trailing behind one of the most gorgeous people he had ever met had Quentin reeling.

 

“Am I hallucinating?” He blurted. It would make sense. New meds, rough day, that sort of thing.

 

“If you were, how would asking me help?” The taller man gave a small smile before leading him inside. That made sense too, in a way.

 

Quentin found a seat at the back of the room and, after struggling to remove his sweater, opened the strangest test booklet he had ever seen. The questions kept changing on the page, but after staring for a few moments, Quentin realised he _knew_ this.

 

As the exam time ran down, Quentin still wasn’t sure the whole thing wasn’t just a dream or bad reaction to his medication, but as he took his exam booklet to the marked boxes at the front of the room he saw Julia and let out a sigh of relief. She was as confused as he was, and if he was making this up, Julia would have all the answers. So, it was real. Or, at the very least, _he_ wasn’t the one making this up.

 

The next room he entered faced him with a table full of people he had never seen, and the guy - the Dean- who had introduced the exam was berating him to do magic. But not magic like he would usually do, sleight of hand, but real magic. Every word the Dean said seemed designed to tear into Quentin’s core and when he couldn’t take it anymore, the cards in his hand burst forth. They flew around the room before forming themselves into a castle.

 

 _Magic was real_.

 

Quentin fainted.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So seeing that there was a soulmates prompt for Queliot Week motivated me to get this finished. I also did some work on some of the other prompts so expect those soon

“ _Quentin, you haven’t been depressed. You’ve been alone. And you are not crazy. You’re angry. And you are correct. Everyone - everyone medicates… out there. Here, we hope you won’t need to.”_

Dean Fogg was wrong, or just a straight up liar. The heavy cloud of depression still hovered over Quentin, sneaking up on him at times, and at others merely settling around him like the comfort of a well-loved blanket. Time had been passing in a blur and Quentin felt like he was just going through the motions of being a functioning human being. Get up, go to classes, eat, read. One of the few things to break through the monotony was Eliot... And Margo. But mostly Eliot.

The man had quickly become his closest friend at Brakebills, yet another friend Quentin found himself slowly but surely falling for. Through the beast’s appearance, seeing Julia with the hedges, the Charlie/Alice/niffin drama, being put under that nightmare spell, Eliot remained. He stayed by his side reminding him that he wasn’t alone. It was nice, but there was a part of Quentin that wondered if things might be even better if he were medicated. Even without a prescription, so many students seemed to be numbing themselves with one thing or another.

When things first got bad, Quentin had taken to oversize clothing in multiple layers. Despite the waves and troughs of mental well-being this habit never really left him. Many layers, dressing in the dark, closing his eyes to go through the motions of a shower before dissociating for half an hour with a steady stream of water coming down over his head. It helped, sometimes, to ignore the fact that he maintained a physical form. He could be an idea, connected to close-up magic and the fantasy books that had dragged him through adolescence. The three things that got him through when he struggled like this were his dad, Julia, and magic. But now his dad was sick. He and Jules hadn’t... couldn’t... That was a bridge he doubted he’s be able rebuild any time soon. And magic... was _real_. Real and amazing and terrifying and overwhelming and incredible.

-

It was one of those mornings where the weight of all your past decisions sit upon your chest so you let them hold you down, roll over and go back to sleep. Unfortunately it was the fourth such morning and from the sound of the banging on the door of his room, Margo was over it.

“Open the door, Coldwater! I will smash through these wards and drag you out of there by your incredibly greasy hair if I have to but I’m giving you a choice!”

Quentin sighed. He really didn’t _want_ to get out of the bed, but he knew his wards weren’t strong enough to keep her out.

“Coming!” The word sounded harsh from a throat that hadn’t been used in days. Thankfully it made the banging stop. He untangled himself from his sheets, stumbling as he tried to get off the bed.

“Jesus, Coldwater.” Margo said, as the door swung open. “You look like shit. That’s okay I’m here to help.”

“Help?” He said weakly.

“Yup. Come on. To the bathroom.” She took his hand and lead him gently from his bedroom. “Come, honey. Arms up. I’m going to take these clothes and wash them... or burn them. But I’ll bring you clean clothes.” A sceptical look crossed his face but he let her help him free of his hoodie. “I promise that I will bring you your own, comfortable clothing. Just clean. Now, was your hair. Can you manage the rest of your clothes yourself?”

He nodded slowly and she left him to his devices. Sure, he could shower. He’d been showering for years. Body plus water. Yep. Okay. He can _do_ this. _Easy steps first. Turn the taps, make the water go._ He broke each step down until his hair, and everything below, was clean. Unfortunately, getting back out of the shower was another task entirely.

Margo seemed to know that, as she strode back through the bathroom door at that moment. “I know the temptation to stand there until flow down the drain with everything else is high. Which is why I have returned.” Quentin squeaked and tried to wrap himself in the shower curtain. “Don’t worry, I’m not looking. I just have clothes. Get out.”

She held a large towel out to him, turning her back as he slipped from behind the curtain. “Thanks.” He murmured, taking the towel from her outstretched hand, “Uh, did you want to leave the clothes?”

“Nope. I’m standing here until you’re dressed. Then you’re coming with me, Coldwater.”

“O-Oh okay?” Margo held items of clothing out as he needed them. He fumbled them on, asking quietly, “No offense, but why do you care?”

She turned to him, smirking slightly as he struggled into his t-shirt. “I _care_. You’re my friend. Also, my best friend is sulking because he hasn’t seen you in days and someone had to fix you both. Let’s go.”

“Could I maybe...” He gestured to the button down in her hands.

“Oh sure. I forgot how you are about your layers.” Her eyes widened as she caught sight of his right arm. “Nice soulmark, by the way.”

“What?” He stared at his arm as though he’d never seen the limb before, or his name inscribed there. In a way he hadn’t. Not in full colour, anyway.

“Who’s the soulmate, then?”

“I-I, um. I don’t. When did...” He hadn’t looked up from his arm yet.

“Did I break you? Let’s ignore it for now. Downstairs.”

“I... Yes.” He pulled the shirt over his arms, leaving it unbuttoned to flow around his body and break up the shape, then followed her... into what could have been modestly described as a mountain of breakfast foods. Eggs, waffles, sausages, berries, yogurt, cereal. “You know I can’t eat all of this, right?”

“We know, darling. El just wanted you to have options.”

“Eliot made all this? Is he gonna...?”

“No honey, he had somewhere he had to be.” Quentin’s face fell slightly and he turned his focus to his meal. And think about his _soulmark_.

When did it change? He had spoken to so many people since arriving at Brakebills. Had anyone even said his full name since he had arrived? Surely, the other person would have noticed and said something. Unless they were disappointed... Of course they’d be disappointed, he _was_ Quentin Coldwater. His brow furrowed.

“Hey, what ever made your face make that face, stop it.” Quentin startled out of his little spiral.

“I was just thinking...”

“Yeah, I could see that. Stop it.”

“Why didn’t whoever my soulmark matches tell me? Am I not ...” He whimpered and buried his face in his hands.

“Oh honey.” She circled the table and perched next to his plate, running her fingers through his hair. “You’ve got that whole geek chic thing going on for you, and for some reason things that would normally horrify me, you manage to make _almost_ cute.”

“Uh... Thanks?”

“Not the point. There are definitely people who think you’re attractive. Even if he is currently the stupidest man on the _planet_.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind, you’re both idiots.” She muttered. “You should think about it some more, but no bad brain spirals. Just the words. Also, eat your food, then come find me and I’ll point you in the right direction, sweetie.”

“You’re not making any sense, Margo.”

“I know. Just eat your eggs, Q.”

Eggs are easy enough. Fork to mouth. Chew. Swallow. Repeat.

Now to the hard part:

Who had he spoken to while he has been at Brakebills? So many people.

Who has called him by his first and last name at the same time? Less than that.

As a question?

As their first words to him?

Oh.

 

No.

 

Not possible. Quentin would _know_ . He had certainly stared at the man enough to know that he _had_ a confirmed soulmark. What appeared to be several sentences of gradient text. Quentin barely managed a word when they first spoke, so those words scrawled over Eliot’s right forearm couldn’t possibly have been related to Quentin. All up his... right... arm.

Quentin bolted up from the table. “Margo! Where is Eliot?”

-

Quentin knocked on Eliot’s door, not waiting for a response before pushing the door open.

“Quentin! What can I do for you?” He sat surrounded by soft pillows up against his headboard, lazily taking a sip from a glass of swirling pink liquid.

“What the fuck?

"Did I do something?" He quirked his eyebrow at the younger man, towering over him – for a change – as he loomed from the edge of the bed.

Quentin started to pace as he struggled to put his thoughts into coherent sentences that spanned the breadth of his frustrations with eliot.

"Clearly you are processing something. Do you want to talk about it, or drink about it?" He fished his flask from his pocket and held it out. Gesturing with his glass, he said, “when I have finished this, I’ll make you one of your own. I have been perfecting it this morning and I think it’s ready. But then I have been drinking all the test versions so maybe I’m wrong.”

"Did you know? What does this even mean?" Quentin fumbled with the button at the cuff of his sleeve and Eliot smirked. He enjoyed watching his clumsy first year struggle with basic human activities sometimes. Eventually quentin simply shrugged out of his overshirt, baring the words on his arm to Eliot. The smirk fell briefly before flashing back into place. Had Quentin not been staring he probably wouldn’t have caught the change in the man’s face at all.

“Oh that? It’s nothing to worry about. Sure, I noticed mine change. So many outfits in a day, you know. And the lovely people begging to strip me out of my clothing as soon as they get me alone." He shrugged, like he had no control over the matter

"So you just kept hooking up with people, knowing we were soulmates?"

"What is a soulmate, q? Besides it’s been weeks. And I am a catch. I figured if you wanted to do anything about it, you would. But it doesn’t bother me really. I am your friend, that’s enough."

"Enough?" The sound that tore from quentin’s throat came close to anguish. "Do you not want it to be me?" He whispered quietly.

"Q, no it’s not that. I sort of thought you’d come to me."

Quentin drew into himself. "Well, you know, I’ve been having a bit of a rough time. What with the beast and the almost expulsion and my brain just being the worst.... I didn’t notice."

"Come sit down. Tell me what’s been going on." Eliot drew the smaller man into his side.

Quentin decided to start by telling Eliot about layers that began when he first started to feel the self- loathing that filled him until he couldn’t stand to see any part of his body. About showering with his eyes closed until the point he can just stare at the drain and wait for the water to run cold, like he’s gently hypnotised by the water swirling away and it takes the shock of the temperature change to remind him that standing naked and wet isn’t a thing he can do forever. Eliot let out a small chuckle and ran his fingers through Quentin’s hair.

"Oh Q." His free arm brings the flask to his mouth. "Here goes. So, I noticed the soulmate change pretty quickly. And I thought you had too. I waited days for you to come and talk to me about it. Then as those days spread into a week I thought it just wasn’t something you wanted so you had just decided to ignore it. Which, you know, sting to the ego but I’m a big boy with easy access to a lot of alcohol. I could get over that. Then we kept getting closer and I started to wonder if you were straight, if people got platonic soulmarks sometimes, if soulmarks could be one sided. Because you are so _good, Quentin,_ and having you in my life makes it better so I could settle for that.

When things started getting bad for you, it _hurt_ and I didn’t know what to do. I know that your brain breaks sometimes and I shouldn’t be making that about me but I wanted to help and I didn’t know what I could do. So... I weaponised Margo and made breakfast."

"You and Margo were my first friends here. Both of you help make the dark parts of my life a little lighter and the bright, good days absolutely shine for having you in them Eliot. I loved you both so quickly. But my love for _you,_ Eliot Waugh, grew separately from that. You picked a depressed super nerd to take under your wing and you shared so much of yourself with me... plus you are really fucking hot."

Eliot lets out a surprised laugh. "You’re not so bad yourself, Coldwater."

Quentin untucked himself from Eliot’s side. "El?"

"Yeah, Q?"

"Kiss me?"

-

As they lay tangled in Eliot’s sheets, Quentin stroked his fingertips over the words on the other man’s right forearm.

_Well, fuck. You are too attractive to just exist like that. We either need to bone, brawl or bond immediately... or any combination of the three._

“This threw me off after I finally noticed, I mean, Margo actually pointed it out, but the whole soulmark thing. Finally seeing it. In between my ‘but why didn’t they just tell me’ thoughts,” He gently dug his elbow into Eliot’s side. “I couldn’t figure out who had said my name as a question, in part because when you popped up as a suggestion in my mind, I thought I had already seen your soulmark. And it was way more words than I ever managed with how dry my mouth go just from looking at you... also the surprise of being not in the city and at a different time of day, that was a whole thing. But, you know. You. Like that. Wow."

Oh you liked that? Maybe we could re-enact that when most of the other students leave for break. He said with a wink. Margo and I got them in first year. We decided we were the most fabulous people we knew and that we would be in each other’s lives forever. Semi-platonic soulmates making our own soul bonds because, really who could live up?

Quentin barked out a laugh. “I know I could never come between you. Are those really the first words she ever said to you?”

“If they aren’t verbatim, they are very close.”

“What do hers say? Also why haven’t I noticed hers?"

“She likes to keep them glamoured a lot. It’s not because our bond doesn’t matter to her, because we both know it does, but on occasion it can hinder the process of getting laid and Bambi likes to be prepared. Hers say ‘Frankly, I'm flattered but you aren't exactly my preferred flavour of sexual encounter. I admire how much bitch you've managed to pack into that petite little frame, though. Colour me impressed.'"

Quentin chuckles, snuggling closer to Eliot’s side. “Can you do that thing with your nails again? It’s really relaxing and I think I’ll be able to get to sleep. He yawns for effect.

Eliot scrapes his nails across the nape of his neck, drawing them up to tangle in Quentin’s hair and grinned at the moan he received in response “Are you sure you want to sleep, baby?”

-

After the four day malaise, followed by incredible revelations and fantastic sex, he made Eliot take him to the city to get a new prescription for his medication. Quentin’s brain still breaks sometimes. He didn’t expect medication and a soulmate to fix it but having love, medication and magic did help. He knew nothing would be a complete fix, and he had learned a lesson from _Dean Fogg and Vendetta Against Medication and Other Support Structures in Quentin Coldwater’s Life._ The idea that magic comes from pain seemed to motivate the dean and Jane Chatwin to make Quentin’s life as painful as fucking possible. Learning that had caused him to draw the people he loved closer, including demanding that Julia be given her rightful place at Brakebills. Together they all took down the Beast. But there was still more learning to be done.

-

 

Quentin was tucked under Eliot’s arm as they both studied for their separate classes. Well, Quentin studied, and Eliot had definitely read at least one line from the book in his free hand.

“Quentin coldwater? What kind of name is that?” A first year with an abrasive attitude asked

Quentin smiled up at eliot from his position tangled in his arms “You know, I have no idea. I blame Eliot.”

“You could blame Dean Fogg.”

“Maybe just fate.”

“Yeah, but your parents have to take full responsibility for ‘Makepeace’.”

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. This is my first fic in a long time so feedback is appreciated


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